


Growth

by OtterMcKilbourne (p_3a)



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_3a/pseuds/OtterMcKilbourne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anduin Wrynn has the honour of watching the young dragon Prince Wrathion's accelerated physical development.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cat

"I'm fairly sure he's somewhere in the tavern. Just keep looking."

Anduin Wrynn felt guilty to be idling at the jihui board with Left and Right so obviously in a panic, and Wrathion so obviously missing. They'd checked the obvious places - the roof, the Folly, even the little dig-out underneath the tavern where he'd been found once after a particularly loud thunderstorm, covered up to his neck in dirt. The dragon had claimed, of course, that he'd been doing something _other_  than cowering in fear from the loud noises. Nobody had been fooled.

But Anduin had been instructed to stay put, by both his guards and the Blacktalons. Nobody needed _him_  getting lost in the confusion, too, and on the off-chance someone _had_  kidnapped the Black Prince, they'd no doubt be interested in taking Anduin, too. He'd fought down the urge to argue that he wasn't a child, and could take care of himself in the event of any altercation, thank you very much, and instead seated himself obediently by the jihui board and waited. It's not like he would have enjoyed walking around anyway. It was raining outside, and his leg hurt.

A rustling by his side caught his attention. At first he thought it was a tanuki or something that had weaselled its way inside out of the rain and begin rooting around his things; but when he turned to look, he saw, instead, twin pairs of curved horns protruding from the bag of his things that he'd brought downstairs, followed by a little face.

"...Wra--"  
"Shh!" The dragon whelp dipped his head back into the bag; Anduin sighed heavily and made out like he hadn't seen anything.  
" _What_  are you doing," he muttered through the corner of his mouth.  
"Hiding," Wrathion replied. "I don't feel like doing anything today."  
"You're _terrible_."  
"And?"  
"I'm not abetting this."  
"Yes you are."  
" _No_ ," Anduin hissed, "I'm not. Right's almost as bald as Left for pulling her hair out and Left herself looks as tightly strung as her own crossbow. You're going to _tell_  them you want to retire and--"

"My Prince, who are you talking to?"  
Anduin startled, turning to look at his guard with a smile. "Uh, my father. We have, uh, magic. Magic to talk to each other."  
It was a poorly _worded_  excuse, but an otherwise sound one; the guard nodded emphatically. "My apologies, your Highness. I didn't realise it was royal business."

Well, royal business wasn't exactly _wrong_. Dealing with a royal _pain_  would perhaps be more accurate...

"Fine," Anduin mumbled. "I'll get you back to my room. Stick your head back in and stay _quiet_. No more smart comments."

Wrathion huffed, but, apparently finding this acceptable, poked his head back into the bag and stayed there as Anduin scooped it up. He waved a hand to his guards;

"I'm just going to my room, don't worry about it. I don't need to look for Wrathion seeing as," he raised his voice, "I found him in my bag."

The smugness in Anduin Wrynn's grin was only matched by the irritation in Wrathion's glare as Anduin handed him over by the scruff of his neck to Left. "If I don't get to shirk my duties, you don't get to shirk yours either."  
Wrathion huffed. "I was _going_  to suggest we spend some time _together_ ," he muttered, "but clearly you're too much of a _goody two shoes_."  
It was a well-worn insult, and Anduin didn't react to it. "Later this evening, Wrathion. And maybe _without_  making everyone search for you like you're a lost pet this time..."


	2. Dog

Wrathion hated the window to Anduin's room.

It didn't matter what room he meant - the one at the keep in Stormwind was the worst, but the one at Lion's Landing was almost as bad, and while the one at the Tavern in the Mists was of _course_  by far the best, it was still beginning to be a painful squeeze.

Right now, it was the window at Lion's Landing.

And it was _raining_ , and he was _stuck_.

He'd been growing far more than he could ever have realistically anticipated recently, and it was proving far more irritating than advantageous at this stage. Everything was happening all _wrong_. He wasn't supposed to grow past the size of a medium rodent until he was at _least_  a decade old, and here he was, aged three and a half, and the size of a large dog.

He'd wriggled his head into the gap he'd used so many times to access Anduin's bed for a nap when he needed some time away from, well... _everything_  except for the Prince himself, and managed to get his shoulders stuck. That was another problem, as well. His entire bone structure was becoming less malleable, more solid as he grew; and, paradoxically, simultaneously more delicate. His previously flexible cartilage-made skeleton was solidifying rapidly into solid joints designed to carry the sheer weight of a fully-grown drake when he wasn't even out of his whelphood yet.

So where previously his collarbones might have given way to allow him to squeeze in, now, he was thoroughly unable to move forwards. And with his almost awkwardly large horns (at least for his size), the four of them regal yet ultimately unyieldy, he couldn't move _backwards_  either. So. He was stuck.

He braced his paws against the window frame and tried to pull backwards, but found the pain at the base of his horns grew too painful to bear long before the window frame gave way. He tried the other way, trying to barge forwards with his shoulders, but _that_  didn't work. Well and truly stuck.

He began to panic. His wings fluttered helplessly, occasionally batting against the windowpane; it was _cold_  out here. He could _die_! He could feel his heat seeping away from his scales with every freezing raindrop that hit them, and every gust of wind which threatened to catch his wings and slam his body against the wall. His weight was significant enough now that such a thing could hurt him significantly; even break a bone or two. He never thought he'd say it, but... he missed being small.

A noise ahead of him distracted him from his plight. The door opened, and... oh, no. Was it possible to die from shame? Wrathion felt like he was about to find out.

"Wrathion." Anduin's tone was equal parts amused, irritated, and utterly confused. " _What_  are you doing?"  
"What does it _look_  like?" the whelp snapped, no patience for smart comments. "I'm being _stuck_. Are you going to help me, or not?"  
"Well, you do make a rather nice wall ornament there," Anduin grinned as he approached Wrathion, leaning heavily with each step on his cane. "But probably a little bit too annoying to be a permanent installation."

He leaned against the windowsill as he reached over to unwedge the window panes from either side of Wrathion's neck. Wrathion gave a whelpish croak of pain as the two halves of the window were scraped along his scales, flapping his wings frantically again and flailing as they pressured his neck enough to cut off his breathing for a half-second before he was finally freed. He flustered fowards into the room, knocking Anduin over and making straight for the roof to nurse his injuries from the rafters, only to find he'd grown too big to fit in _that_  gap too and eventually settling for sulking on top of Anduin's wardrobe.

The priest picked himself up off the floor with muttered curses to close the window and stop the rain from coming in. "You're a horrid nuisance," he glared at Wrathion - to no response.


	3. Horse

"Are you sure this is safe, Anduin?"

"Father, it's no different than riding a gryphon. I'll be fine."

Wrathion seemed to disagree. He snorted smoke, rolling his shoulders underneath the harness and continually shifting his weight under both King and Prince's scrutiny. He knew he'd agreed to let Anduin ride him when he'd reached this size, but... well, he wasn't so sure it would be quite so _soon_  when he'd agreed to that. He'd thought that perhaps Anduin would be dead before that happened, but apparently he was mistaken, because here was not only Anduin but Varian, too. The King's hair had begun to grey at the temples, and Anduin was notably taller than he was when Wrathion had first met him - evidently catching up with the growth that he'd lost in the bell incident almost a decade ago now.

Left had reported the results of her research - that the lack of other dragonkin in the area had accelerated Wrathion's growth well beyond what was normal, his body making a desperate bid to prepare itself for repopulating his Flight. It was a task it would never be suitable for, considering its chimaeric nature, but it certainly didn't hurt that he was no longer the easiest kidnapping target on Azeroth.

And maybe, he hoped, he could bond a little with Anduin by taking him on a ride. Not a flight yet - his wings were still catching up to his _own_  weight, leaving him groundbound for often weeks at a time as the growing pains wracked his wings. But a trip about the forest, perhaps a little rock-hopping. That would be alright.

Anduin approached him by the side, ducking under his wing as it stretched out in his direction and grabbing onto the saddle with both hands. "Behave yourself," he muttered, "or my father will never let us leave his sight." Wrathion ruffled his crests discontentedly, then settled down and let Anduin clamber atop him. The prince strapped his legs in on either side of the gangly drake's sides, grateful to the leatherworker for the extra padding on the side of his bad leg, and smiled at his father. "You have to admit, Father. You always wanted me to strike fear into the hearts of my enemies."  
"I'm not a _prop_ , you know," Wrathion interjected, rearing up a little to test how Anduin's weight rested on him. Anduin yelped and leaned fowards, holding onto the pommels at the front of the harness (there were no reigns, of course; Wrathion was capable of directing the two of them himself).

Varian, to their surprise, laughed. "You're sure frightening _me_."  
"Sorry, Father. _Wrathion_ , settle down."  
"I _told_  you," he huffed, "I'm not here as some prop so you can demonstrate your _personal development_  to your father. Can't we _go_  already? I want to see the forest."  
"I'm glad you're not," Anduin scoffed. "You'd make a dreadful mount. Wouldn't he, Father?"  
"Almost as disobedient as I was at his age," Varian grinned.  
" _You_  weren't expected to carry blond-haired princes around on your back like some royal _pack animal_."  
The king laughed. "Yes, I was. I'll never get over how _bossy_  Arthas was, you know."

Varian missed the way Anduin flinched, but Wrathion didn't. He snorted smoke and stretched his neck a little. "Well, regardless, we are _leaving_. Anduin, do try to sit _still_."  
"I'm sitting perfectly still!"  
"No you aren't! That _behind_  of yours is always _fidgetting_. You'll make me fall over!"  
"Wrathion, you've got four legs and a set of  _vestigial wings_  to keep you upright. Me trying to get _comfy_  won't make you fall!"  
"A- _ha_! So you _do_  admit you were moving!"  
"Uggghh, shut _up_!" Despite his words, Anduin laughed, the sound pleasing to Wrathion's ears. "Come on, before you make any more of a fool out of yourself in front of my father."  
"Make a fool of _myself_? Make a fool of _you_ , more like..."  
"I hate you," the blond replied with affection as Wrathion finally began to lope his way out of the preparation field.  
"And I you, my dearest."


	4. Drake

"Hold _still_ , Wrathion!"  
"Just hurry _up_! Do you know how _difficult_  this is?!"

Anduin Wrynn stared out of his bedroom window to the drake in flight just below it. He was holding his neck as close to the side of the keep as he could, so that Anduin might be able to clamber onto it - but needing space for his great wings, he couldn't move up _alongside_  it without hurting himself, and... Anduin had to admit he was frightened to jump the gap.

It was getting darker, and the longer Anduin waited, the harder it was to see where he was meant to be jumping to. Wrathion was a _black_  dragon, after all; he didn't exactly stand out in the twilight the way a blue or a bronze dragon might. And Anduin's eyesight, while far from bad, wasn't getting any better as he grew older.

Occasionally, Wrathion's head would accidentally bash up against the stonework; it was hardly a catastrophic circumstance, but the scrape of his curved horns against the stonework of the castle tower was awful to Anduin's ears, and he flinched back away from the windowsill every time it happened.

"I--" Anduin hesitated, "I can't do it! Not from here!"  
"Do you want to escape tonight or not?!" The dragon huffed smoke in irritation. "It was my understanding that your father won't let you _leave_  the night before your coronation, so if you want to see me, this is our only option. Unless you want me to pick you up with my claws."  
"No claws! I-- I do want to come with you," Anduin said, meaning it. "I'll-- just. Try and hold as still as you can, alright?"  
Another heavy sigh. "Fine."

The beating of Wrathion's wings picked up in pace as he made an effort to hold himself high and steady; Anduin breathed in deeply, then, calling the Light to himself to lighten his heart, made the leap of faith.

His hands contacted scales a moment later; he was backwards on Wrathion's neck, and too frightened to turn around just yet. The dragon must have felt his heart hammering, because he descended towards the grassy lawn beneath Anduin's high window at a gentle pace, setting himself down and lowering his neck so Anduin could climb off and adjust himself.

The older Prince was out of breath, and it took him a few moments to calm down before he clambered back atop Wrathion's neck. He reached his hands forwards to grip the pair of Wrathion's horns which reached back elegantly towards his back - the dragon had _three_  pairs now, and Anduin had to admit he'd zoned out when Wrathion had explained why, but they did look very impressive. And this pair of them made a good set of handlebars.

Wrathion took off again into the rapidly darkening night sky, and they began to talk.

"So," Wrathion began, "you'll be King, tomorrow. Tell me, how is this? I was rather under the impression that your father would have to be _dead_  before that happened."  
"He's stepping down for me," Anduin smiled, the wind in his hair soothing him now where it had frightened him moments before. "We'll be able to serve the kingdom better with me as King and him as my advisor, not the other way around. So that's what we're doing now I'm of age."

"And how old are you, exactly? I've lost count."  
Anduin laughed. "Don't pretend you did. You can tell your own age to the day, but you don't know mine?"  
"And there was me thinking you'd appreciate the opportunity to brag," the dragon drawled.  
"Fine. I'm twenty-one. Shame Father still treats me like a child sometimes."  
"He won't be doing that tomorrow, if he'd like to keep his head," Wrathion smirked.  
"Don't joke about that!" Anduin hit the open palm of his hand against the back of Wrathion's head - it didn't hurt him at all, or he wouldn't have done it. "I know _you're_  fine with murdering your family, but I'm not."

Wrathion began to descend again - it was a short flight to where they were going, and he spiralled down easily on the night breezes. These flights were always the best. He'd miss them when they weren't able to have them any longer, and he had a nasty feeling that this would be among the last for a while, what with Anduin's new duties as King keeping him so occupied.

His large scaled paws padded surprisingly delicately into the grass atop the hill they landed on. It was their favourite place, of late, now travelling to Pandaria was off-limits. It overlooked Stormwind - all of it. Lights and flames flickered in the evening darkness, and Wrathion looked over to see a soft smile on Anduin's face as he slipped off the dragon's neck onto the grass as well.

He shifted into his own humanoid form. He was shorter than Anduin - always had been, but the difference was more striking now that Anduin had finished growing. He was the son of a monstrous man and the tallest Queen that Stormwind had known in decades, so no wonder he'd be quite so tall. Wrathion almost entertained the thought of shifting back to his magnificent drake form just to outdo the older Prince, when suddenly Anduin grabbed him into a tight hug, burying his face into Wrathion's hair.

"It's so silly," Anduin muttered into his ear. "I'm still frightened."  
"What, of jumping onto my neck?" Wrathion scoffed, wrapping his arms around Anduin's waist. "You probably won't have to do it again, you know. We can use the balcony next time, seeing as it won't be locked."  
"No, I meant..." Anduin pulled back a little, enough to look at Wrathion's face. The dragon could see the reflection of his own eyes in Anduin's mortal ones. "I meant being King. I know in my head I'm ready, but..."  
"...you're still afraid in your heart." Wrathion gave a small smile. He had no real advice - he'd never had to rule a kingdom, not truly - but he wasn't about to leave Anduin with _nothing_. "Well, it's just as well that you have a dragon to whisk you away at a moment's notice if it all gets too much, hm?"  
"Wrathion..." he gave a quiet laugh, "you know it doesn't work that way."  
"Nonetheless." Wrathion took both of Anduin's hands in his own. "The offer stands."

They kissed there, looking down over Stormwind, and Wrathion hoped very much that this wasn't going to be their very last trip up here.


	5. Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains discussions of mortality and character death. It also contains mention of amputation, implied to be due to a fire fight.

It had been a shamefully long time since the two of them had seen each other.

Wrathion thought so, anyway. It had been long enough that he wasn’t even sure Anduin felt the same any more.

He was far too big to fit inside the Keep in his dragon form these days, so he was waiting for the King by the entrance. Not that there was much of a Keep to be inside of anyway. The fight with the Legion had taken its toll on the architecture, and as sturdy as it was, the dread lords who had attacked it had proven sturdier. Stormwind’s castle might have fallen, but thanks to Anduin’s wisdom and the tenacity of his people, Stormwind itself had held.

Wrathion was the one who had been responsible for saving its civilians, and the civilians of so many other cities. He’d spirited them away to Draenor, not only a world away but a timeline away - where the Legion would never even think to look. And now they were home, rebuilding; and Wrathion himself had been called to Stormwind to be thanked.

He wasn’t, contrary to popular belief, actually a particularly big fan of large ceremonies. He’d contemplated sending any number of Blacktalons in his stead to accept whatever medal they were going to give him. But he’d decided in the end that he wanted to see Anduin again.

He wasn’t left waiting long. Wrathion was such a prestigious guest in this instance that the King himself was sent out to greet him - and much to Wrathion’s relief, he was _not_ accompanied by the usual entourage of twenty guards and at least three people in very bright uniforms with trumpets and bells and scrolls full of announcements to make. Just his familiar two - they were getting on in years now, but Anduin was known for his loyalty to his staff - and Anduin himself. The crown sat easier on his head than it had the last time Wrathion saw him.

“Good morning, Wrathion,” he said. His voice was much deeper than it had been the last time Wrathion had heard it - full of age and wisdom and all the sorts of things kings were supposed to accumulate over time. Anduin was a walking cliché, but he was an _alive_ one, and given how little ago that wasn’t a certainty? It was something Wrathion was glad for.

“It’s King Wrathion now, if you were wondering,” he snarked - then watched carefully to see how Anduin would take it.  
To his relief, he chuckled. “Very well. Finally earned that ‘Your Majesty’ you were always so fond of?”  
Wrathion couldn’t help but incline his head, pleased they could pick up where they’d left off… what, five years ago? Ten? “Yes. By way of the death of Queen Alexstrasza, mind you, so don’t congratulate me _too_ much. People might think you’re smug about it.”  
“I’ll bear it in mind. You do look magnificent, though. Worthy of the title.”  
“Thank you.”

They began walking towards the in tact remnants of the Keep. Anduin was a fair height himself now, well over six feet; but Wrathion towered above him, easily the height of the first floor off the ground. He kept his great wings tucked into his side, his three huge pairs of horns towering into the sky above them both. But Anduin, just as sharp as ever, noticed something wasn’t quite right.

“If I may,” he asked, quietly, “what happened to your back left paw?”  
“It’s just a limp,” Wrathion lied. “It took a knock during a dog fight with one of those awful airships they built. They say it’ll heal.” Well. Only half a lie. ... _Two thirds_ of a lie. Close enough.  
The older King sighed. “It’s after lunch. Which you’re invited to, by the way. Will you come? It’s just me, Tess, and Father.”  
“Your father’s still around? Impressive, for a man of his history,” Wrathion commented. “Very well. I will join you for dinner.”

He began to regret coming as soon as he’d sat down to dinner.

He’d forgotten how _formal_ human dinners were, even if one of the people at the table wasn’t _strictly_ human any more. Tess Greymane - now Wrynn by marriage, much to the amusement of everyone who knew the orientations of her and her supposed husband - had taken the Worgen curse by accident many years ago now, but you wouldn’t know it from how she held a fork. Wrathion hadn’t needed to use a fork in _years_. Or a knife - on anything that wasn't still _alive_ , that is. The temptation to pick up the meat they’d been served with his fingers and eat it _properly_ was almost overwhelming... but he resisted it for Anduin’s sake. And Varian’s, he supposed. Not that Varian was anything like other men his age when it came to frailty.

It was over quickly, thankfully - only one course, which Wrathion might have found insulting if he wasn’t just glad to be out of that tiny room with its tiny utensils and tiny furniture. But, then… now came the ceremony itself.

Two Stormwind guards came to fetch him once he was done washing up after the meal. They were both young, fresh-faced humans that Wrathion didn’t recognise. They lead him up onto the foyer just behind the balcony which backed onto the new main camp of Stormwind - the city itself was still dangerous in large parts, so what once had been a private balcony intended for viewing the countryside had now become one for making public announcements to the large group of tents clustered between the mountainside, the lake, and the remnants of the Keep. Everything had changed so much since Wrathion was last here, and unpleasant as though that was, he couldn't say he hadn't expected it.

He heard his name announced, and he forced a smile and walked out onto the balcony. The sun was bright - not shining into his eyes, but it did make it hard to see, and he resisted raising his hand to block it out as he waved and stepped forwards to stand opposite Anduin. He was saying something, but Wrathion couldn’t make it out over the noise from the crowd below. Understandable - many of them no doubt recognised the dragon from when they’d been lead to safety in long-ago far-away Nagrand, and wanted to thank Wrathion. All it meant for him was an awful racket. He wanted to go home.

Anduin approached him, and for a split second Wrathion suspected he was going to kiss him - he leaned in, but it was to murmur in his ear as he placed the medal around his neck. “You can go inside now; just one more wave to the crowd,” he reassured. Wrathion wasn’t going to argue with that.

Once inside, he sat down heavily. That… was about as exhausting as it possibly could have been, given all it really _was_ was standing around and waving.

He rested his head in his hands for only a few moments before he became aware of someone else moving inside after him. Looking up, he was surprised to see Varian, not Anduin - the elder Wrynn was well into his seventies by now, his hair grey and his face creased. He walked with a cane, like his son did; Wrathion briefly wondered if joint pain ran in the family. But, like his son, he was now dignified and wise. Wrathion supposed he would have been proud of Varian if he’d have known him better in his younger years.

The old King-Father sat down on the bench next to Wrathion, then sighed.

“So. When are you going to tell him about your leg?”

Wrathion blinked. “You… noticed.”  
“I did.” The intensity of Varian’s gaze hadn’t lessened any over the years.  
Wrathion inclined his head and broke the eye contact. “I suppose that’s to be expected, from a former gladiator.” He sighed. “I wasn’t planning on telling him. I’m sure he’ll work it out for himself if he thinks it’s important enough.”  
“You should tell him. He’ll have more respect for you that way.”

Wrathion might have objected indignantly to that, years ago - but now, he was old enough to know there was no point. “I’ll bear it in mind,” he said, with a curt smile.

That was enough for Varian, who moved off. Wrathion was left alone with his thoughts and the muffled roar of the crowd.

For an entire five minutes, anyway. The wall of noise when the balcony doors were opened again made him flinch; Tess and Anduin walked inside, followed by numerous guards. Wrathion covered his ears; Anduin, recognising his discomfort, moved over towards him and gently pulled him to his feet, leading him into a different room.

“Sorry about that,” was the first thing Anduin said to his old friend. “I didn’t realise it would take such a toll on you.”  
“Yes, well. I’ve grown rather more used to peace and quiet in my years working alone,” Wrathion smoothed, neatening his clothing.  
Anduin looked down. “I suppose it would be selfish of me to ask you for your company this afternoon.”  
“Depends on what you were thinking.”  
“A walk around the royal gardens, perhaps? They’ve just been restored. Tess said it was better for morale, and she was right. It took less than a day with her druids’ help.”  
“So they’re open to the public?” Wrathion hesitated. His real question was whether Anduin really _hadn’t_ noticed exactly what was the matter with his leg yet, considering he was suggesting a _walk_...  
“Yes, but… nobody’s going to be there today.” Anduin smiled, perhaps a little sadly. “Please?”  
“...alright, but only because you used that pathetic voice of yours,” Wrathion grinned. “Use it sparingly before I grow tired of it.”  
Anduin rolled his eyes, smirking. “Duly noted, King Wrathion.”

The gardens _were_ beautiful. Wrathion had always had something of a private appreciation for foliage, and the Queen’s druids - no doubt herself included in their number, for she was as formidable a plant-weaver as Anduin was a priest - had done a wonderful job. Boxed hedges penned in beds of any flower or herb you could think of; the healing herbs in particular were a working area of the garden, constantly harvested and regrowing, but the others were simply pretty. A demonstration of hope for the restoration of the world at large - as Stormwind in general, and its royal family, were said to be.

They walked for around ten minutes, away from the Keep, before Anduin stopped them.

Wrathion was prepared to be quizzed on his leg, but, somehow, he hadn’t prepared himself for the actual question that came out of Anduin’s mouth:  
“So. Why haven’t you visited?”  
Wrathion came up with something fairly quickly. “I have been _incredibly_ busy, you know.”  
“As have we all. I still found time to write letters. You never replied to them. Why.”  
“Did you bring me out here to _accuse_ me of something, Anduin Wrynn?” Wrathion didn’t hide his irritation.  
“Yes, actually. Of avoiding me. Why?”  
“I told you, I’ve--”  
“ _On purpose_ , Wrathion.”

Wrathion curled his hands into fists and looked at the ground. There was a reason, but it wasn’t one he’d wanted to share with Anduin. He supposed he didn’t have a choice now, save leaving and not coming back. “I’m… sorry.” He took a breath. “I suppose I’m just. Frightened, really. Of what will happen when you’re… gone.”  
Anduin’s frown faded to a look of sympathy, and he reached out a hand towards the dragon. “Wrathion…”  
“I never had a true friend before or after you,” he continued, “and I’m-- I’m not certain I ever will. So it’s… practice, if you like. For being alone.”

With Wrathion not having pulled away, Anduin rest his hand on his shoulder. “But you don’t have to be alone _now_ ,” he said gently. “I have another… twenty, thirty years. Maybe forty if we’re lucky. That’s almost twice again how old I am now. And with the Legion defeated… there’s not much reason for us to spend any of it apart.”  
“How will I _cope_ , after that twenty years is up?”  
“Maybe that’s something we could talk about together!” Anduin gripped his shoulder. “We… we used to be in _love_ , Wrathion. And I miss you. I miss you a _lot_. And I’m sorry I have to go before you do, but… please can we try and spend some time together, before then?”

Wrathion breathed out steadily, not looking up. He was… honestly, frightened was the right word for it. He was _scared_. But… Anduin was right. And wasn’t his entire mode of operation to do what was right, no matter the cost?

He forced a smile, which became less forced when he looked up at Anduin’s face. It was older than it was last time they’d seen each other - wrinkles had set in across his forehead and his sideburns were turning bright white instead of their usual blond, but… he was still. Beautiful. A shining beacon of hope for a better world. “Perhaps today’s the day when the Wrynn family finally begins being correct about things, then. Alright. I’ll stay.”

Anduin’s laugh was enough to brighten Wrathion’s mood almost completely. “You will?”  
“I will.”  
“Oh! The children will be so happy when they return from Nagrand,” he grinned. “Do you have hatchlings of your own yet? I know you wanted them.”  
“Not yet, but we’re working on it.”  
“You must let me meet them when they’re hatched,” Anduin insisted. “Please stay with us.”  
Wrathion laughed again, gently. “I will stay, Anduin Wrynn.”

They paused - Anduin holding Wrathion’s shoulder, and Wrathion’s hand laying atop Anduin’s on his cane. Then Wrathion raised an eyebrow. “I wonder if your father was correct, too…”  
“...correct about what?” Anduin looked at Wrathion sidelong.  
“That I should show you this before you notice of your own accord.”

He pulled his left trouser leg up - revealing what was blatantly not a flesh-and-blood leg, now it was exposed. It looked like it was made of dark-stained wood, with certain sections in the joints cut out and replaced at a different angle, then smoothed down again.

“It has rocks inside the joints,” Wrathion explained. “I can manipulate them to help it move more like a flesh leg would. It’s… exhausting, but comparatively practical--”

His sentence was cut off when he found himself gathered up in a Wrynn-brand bear hug. He gave a small laugh, then… wrapped his own arms around Anduin in return.  
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”  
“You ridiculous dragon.”  
“And I promise not to disappear again.”  
“Idiot.” He hugged tighter.

They stayed like that until Wrathion got tired of standing. “King Wrynn, I have a proposition.”  
“And what would that be?” Anduin pulled back, smiling faintly.  
“Would you like to visit our old spot atop the cliffs? I checked on the way in, you know. It’s still there.” He had to admit he’d hoped his visit would end up this way.  
Anduin’s eyes widened, and Wrathion swore they sparkled. It looked a little strange on a fifty-year-old man, but it filled Wrathion’s heart with long-forgotten affection nonetheless. “You would take me there?”  
“Only if you want me to.”  
“Of course I do, you daft dragon!” He laughed again. “Together?”  
“Together,” Wrathion said, smiling.

Stormwind’s great guardian took his dragon form once again - and, lowering himself to the ground that its King of Hope could climb atop him, took off into the afternoon sky.


End file.
